


Playing Nice

by spicedrobot



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Dirty Talk, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Rutting, Spanking, Spit As Lube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:33:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23789377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spicedrobot/pseuds/spicedrobot
Summary: Arthur loves to push Charles' buttons. Charles finds he doesn't mind too much.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Charles Smith
Comments: 2
Kudos: 142





	Playing Nice

**Author's Note:**

> For my second raffle winner on twitter, who wanted charthur + spanking! This is also somewhat related to my other Charthur fic [The Sixth Game](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22745974), but can be understood without reading that one!

It becomes something of a habit, egging Charles on. Arthur’s never been good at being honest, and he’d be lying if he said there isn’t a certain thrill to it, waiting for Charles well-disciplined patience to give way. 

“Just what are you thinking, Arthur Morgan?” Charles growls one night. On a hunt, just the two of them, the perfect chance to wheedle Charles until those sharpened eyes turn on him. “Actin’ up like this will get you over my knee if you’re not careful.”

Arthur goes bright red and speechless. At best, he’d been expecting something like a rough hand at his shirt collar, at worst, a brusque laugh and rolled eyes. 

Charles’ just full of surprises.

Arthur mumbles something that’s lost beneath the crackle of the fire.

“What’d you say?”

Another second of dark-faced indecision, Arthur working his jaw, mustering courage.

“I said...I’d like that.” 

They both stare at each other over the fire, neither drunk enough to blame it on the whiskey but both lookin’ like they’d had too much regardless.

That’s how he finds himself splayed over Charles’ thighs in nothing but worn, unbuttoned long johns with his face buried in his forearms. Arthur’s positively burning with embarrassment, but it’s nothing compared to when Charles’ hand descends.

The first smack resonates in the quiet. It’s not even a hard hit, but Arthur gasps just the same. He can’t believe he asked for it, but mostly he can’t believe Charles is humoring him.

The second smack is harder, the third has him rocking away from it, a whimper trapped behind his lips.

“Aw, now, you asked for this…” Charles says, stern but a hair breathless. He smacks him again in the same place as the first, hand prints overlapping. “This is what you get for acting a fool, Arthur.”

Charles’ hand feel huge, the callouses rough and catching when he gropes Arthur’s ass, palming the reddened flesh. He smacks him again for good measure, and Arthur’s not even trying to stop the noises he’s making now, quiet garbled whimpers. His cock fattens against Charles’ thigh, impossible to hide, rubbing against him with each blow.

“Not much of a punishment, huh?” Charles breathes. The next smack hurts, and Arthur yelps.

“Please, Charles—”

A softer hit, but not by much. His cheeks feel hot to the touch, burning, so sensitive. Charles hums curiously, kneading the inflamed flesh while Arthur twists and wriggles away, closer. Then Charles spreads him with one hand, thumb tracing between his cheeks. Arthur tries to crane his head to look, but Charles grasps his nape, keeps him pinned.

The thumb centers over his hole, presses down, pushing in with nothing to aid it. Arthur wheezes, cock twitching traitorously, murmurs something that sounds like Charles’ name but ends in a swear.

“You think you deserve better?”

And Charles knows just what Arthur Morgan thinks about himself, knows that the man would take whatever cruelty he dished out and think it righteous. Charles spits between Arthur’s cheeks, degrading, but better than nothing, shocking himself as much as it shocks Arthur. The man groans, broken and desperate, like he’s coming, but there’s no telltale wetness against his thigh.

Charles drags his fingers through the saliva, and it’s just enough to slide one inside. Arthur clenching around it immediately, shaking and swearing.

“Gonna be better now, aren’t you?” Charles groans, gently curling his finger just as he spanks him again.

“Oh,  _ god _ , Charles—”

A second from breaking, from whiting out his mind. Charles gives him what he wants, cooing gently as Arthur trembles and moans, throbbing against his thigh.

Charles supposes humoring Arthur will only lead to more acting out, but somehow, he finds he doesn't mind.


End file.
